


Disenchanted

by ursa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Animalism, Arson, F/M, No Dialogue, Pre-Hale Fire, Statutory Rape, by definition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-16
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-18 19:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ursa/pseuds/ursa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She will not ask, not yet, not when he’s like this, boneless and naked, blue eyes blown wide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disenchanted

When he first had her on top, it was all sunshine and smatterings of gold, freckles on collarbones and the sickly sweet scent of old wood and lime. It was not a smile that got him hooked, it was a flash of too white teeth and red, red tongue, of something animalistic akin to the rumbling in his chest. He trembled far too long under her, arousal running in his veins like electricity and maybe a little fear.

But he knows fear all too well just as much as he knows the thrill of hiding on the run, stealing kisses like he would as he plays with the random critter scurrying in the underbrush of his mother’s territory.

It started with a stand-off. He tried to be cheeky but his wit fell flat in her snippy remarks, a kind of flirtation reserved for adults and it only boosted his confidence to give way to a chase. His blood pumped fast when she sneers at him, domineering and it makes him want to roll over, loll his tongue like an animal.

He’s an animal. And man, did he feel like one, so free, so controlled by the confines of his gangly limbs, his undeveloped control.

She rides his vibrations well; he thinks it’s the very thing that gave him away, losing control but not altogether, forgetting that this is a human, soft and breakable. But then she grasps his biceps, she latches her hand on his throat and he goes limp and he smiles as she laughs, cooing nonsense, encouraging something that was never tempered by any one in his family before.

It was like fire in a pit, stoked by her sighs and her dirty words and all he can do is squirm and enjoy it. She slams herself on his body, his whole body arching when the clutch feels too tight and he thinks it’s amazing. It’s amazing how he can feel it, her, and somewhere deep in him is satisfied.

He thinks it will last hours, days, and months. He thinks the secret will be kept in the confines of her body, his body, this exchange of things he only imagines at night, before he met her, the disenchanting way he’d let go when he’s with her.

And then she slaps him, a light smack on the face, it helps him focus on this woman again, her lip between her teeth, her eyes like fire (it smolders him and it makes him tremble even more). She uses everything that she has, all prehensile and all he can do is follow up to her actions and just keep going, harder, and harder, faster, moving and writhing and waiting for that flash in his eyes when he comes.

He’ll feel her around him, a cocoon and he thinks he’s safe here, embracing him the way his family never was able to. He’s sick of thinking that he can never get out of there, of thinking that this is his life, he will be bound by what he is, of what they are, howling like animals that they are.

She kisses him one more time and he tries to keep up, the smooth slide of skin upon skin reassuring him that this will never end. That this heat in between, pooling in his gut, consuming him inside out is the best thing there is.

Then he sees Laura stare at him one day, eyes narrowed and nose flaring. She will not ask, not yet, not when he’s like this, boneless and naked, blue eyes blown wide.

He feels it then, a sort of distress in the air, and it drives him to run, a palpable kind of loss inching its way from the tips of his fingers and into his heart. And he feels Laura launching to action, running beside him, just running until the daylight falls to dusk, dusk to darkness.

And it’s only the smell of old wood and lime, and smoke, and burning, and it’s acrid and he can’t breathe. Five miles out and they’re running almost over each other just to see Peter burning in the middle of the woods, crawling, tears mixing with blood.

They are animals; that’s what they are. In sorrow, they howl.

**Author's Note:**

> [Original posted on tumblr.](http://bagelhogger.tumblr.com/post/33434270652)
> 
> also, edited the summary because holy shit that sucked.


End file.
